


when mourning comes

by DenaCeleste



Series: when mourning comes [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, But they don't feature, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Mild Language, Multi, No Sex, Pack Feels, Sour Skittles if you squint, aftermath of death, but emotional intimacy, mentions of Isaac and Boyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4384358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenaCeleste/pseuds/DenaCeleste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the worst happens, Stiles depends on the pack to hold him together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when mourning comes

**Author's Note:**

> So, out of nowhere (okay, out of my own feels/experience with this kind of loss) this came about. Angsty, grief, hurt/comfort. ~~No real 'shippy things~~ Okay, a few shippy things, mostly sour skittles if you squint a bit, but there's a love relationship between the three boys in my head for this one, so...yeah. Deals with the aftermath of death, but there's no explicit violence or anything.
> 
>    
>  **Unless otherwise stated, all works are unbetaed. Please no public concrit. Please keep comments positive. Any private concrit can be directed to my Tumblr ask box.**

The bottle clunked against the solid oak dresser. The whisky sloshed inside, what was left of it anyways. 

Stiles gulped down some more, choked again, coughed it out. The world spun around him, but it'd done that before the alcohol got into his system, so what was the difference, really? 

"Stiles." He looked to the door and saw Derek, just standing there. 

"It's so weird, you know," he blurted, then took another swig. 

Derek appeared in front of him, not by the door anymore. Stiles looked at his hands, but really, if he sees ten on each, or six, or five...it would be nice if this were a nightmare. 

"Stiles. Stiles, you can't do this to yourself." Derek scooped him up, and his loose grip on the bottle had it slip to the floor on its side. 

"Nooo, it's a waste of goo-" he hiccuped, "-ood whisky." He tried to reach for it, but it was as if Derek moved at warp speed. 

The world still spun, but more, and then he was on soft stuff. Oh, the bed. "It's the bed. Nice bed. This is so fucking strange, Derek." 

Derek crowded him against the wall, cool wall and warm werewolf. "Warm, you're so warm. I'm cold. Will I always feel this cold, Derek?" 

Fingers threaded through his hair, lips pressed to his forehead. "No. You won't." 

"Where's everyone else?" His breath hitched, but nothing connected. Why couldn't he breathe?

"Guarding the house." Ah, that was Derek, to the point, no unecessary words. 

"Huh. No real point. I mean, I'm it. No reason to worry that much. I mean, he won't--I won't need to--damn it!" He slammed a fist into Derek's side, his breath trapped in his throat again. 

"Shhh." Derek rocked him, back and forth, but that just made the room tilt. 

"No, no, gonna--stop moving. Why is everything fucking _moving_?" Stiles breathed through his mouth until the sick feeling passed. 

It did but it didn't, because the aching cavern in his chest needed to be filled, held together. "Falling apart man." 

"I know. It's okay." Derek didn't move now, just held him tighter.

Stiles gritted his teeth. " _No_ , it's _not_! It'll _never_ be okay. Not now, not anymore, now that this freakshow that is my _fucking life_ did--took--," he broke off as tears squeezed out from beneath his eyelids. When did he close his eyes? 

Footsteps alerted him to more people in the room. "Scott? Scotty?" He tried to pop his head up, but Derek just moved back and brought Stiles with him. A warm body clambered over them, then behind Stiles, warmth everywhere now, fighting the cold. 

"Yeah, man, I'm here. I'm here buddy." Scotty's breath against the back of Stiles' neck and his hands on his ribs had a grounding effect. 

"Scotty, I don't know what to do now." Stiles gripped Derek's shirt into his fists, rubbed his face against that heavily muscled chest. 

The alcohol wore off too fast, too soon. More footsteps, then they just shuffled next to the bed. 

"Isaac and Boyd are going to keep watch." Erica, so quiet, subdued, so strange now. Nothing would ever be the same, and a whimper escaped him.

Derek's arm lifted off of him, and Erica climbed onto the bed too, curled up against Stiles' hip, on top of his legs. 

He couldn't breathe, couldn't fucking do it, everything hurt, but he couldn't feel anything. "I have no one left." 

"You have us." Scott nuzzled his neck, scented it, rested his face on it. "You have us." 

"Not the same. It's not. I'm sorry. You don't know." The words left his mouth, and then Derek stiffened. "Scotty, you don't get it." 

Derek relaxed again, and Stiles finally tried to look at him, blinked with bleary eyes. "You know though. That feeling that, well, you're it. The top. Lost. So lost." Stiles shook his head and rested on Derek's chest again. 

The thump-thump of his heart lulled Stiles into a doze. Words slipped past his mouth, but made no sense. Every time, they would pet him, stroke, soothe. 

And in the midst of pack, the ache deepened. The pain stabbed him in the chest, and he finally let go. He sobbed into Derek's shirt, ugly tears and snot running down his face. It didn't matter. They huddled closer. 

More weight on the bed, on them, the rest of the pack, as the room got lighter and assaulted him with sunlight. 

The tears came and went, the pack rotated out, Scotty holding him when Derek couldn't. 

"He can stay at my house today." Scott talked over him, like he wasn't there. That was fine though, he'd rather not be there. 

Derek rumbled under his cheek. "That's fine. I'll get a bigger mattress. This thing sucks for all of us to be on it. We can sleep at the den tonight." 

Stiles could feel Scott nod, his chin brushed his hair every so often. They knew he was awake, but they didn't ask him anything. 

The room went quiet, and Stiles listening to everyone breathe. Derek said it would be okay. Derek would know, wouldn't he? 

Stiles burrowed, hid, let them hide him until he was ready to face the world again. Alone, yet not alone.


End file.
